“I don’t think you will see him. He’ll be out in the field. He’s not a castle dweller, like us royals.”
“Do I hear the sound of ambition ringing in your voice? You aren’t royal. The Bloodhounds are a bastard version of true royals at best.”
“Come now, when I wed your royal blood, we can have a castle vaster than this. Or not, if you like this cozier situation. But I know you, Lorda. I understand your ambitions. You won’t be satisfied here for long.” He scratched Manx behind the ears. “You will want what you once had and more. Once this fight ends with the underlings, if it ends, there will be blood spilt between many castles. We need to be ready.”
Lorda’s eyes lit up. The seductive purr returned to her voice. “Creed, your ambition astounds me. I like it. I like it very much.” She moved over to the bed and snapped her finger. Manx moved to the floor. Creed’s eyes widened. As he opened his mouth to speak, she cut him off. “Don’t speak, just feel.” She straddled him. Her gentle fingers stirred the hairs on his chest. “Take me again, Lord Creed.”
While they were in the throes of passionate kisses, a knock came at the door. “Go away!” Creed said. The knocking resumed, harder and faster.
“Go away!”
The knocking became a pounding.
Lorda Almen broke her lips from his. Panting, she said, “Go ahead. I’m not going anywhere.”
Sliding out of the bed, Creed went to the door holding a pillow over his waist. He cracked it open. Jasper and Rayal stood in the hallway. “Yes?”
“There’s trouble outside the gate,” Jasper said. The gothic sorceress’s eyes were big as moons. “It’s underlings. They pound your very gates.”
Creed look back at Lorda. “Cat, we need to continue this another time. There’s more fighting to do. Get dressed.”
***
Castle Bloodhound was a much smaller facility than the neighboring castles. It could hold one hundred men, whereas the royals could hold hundreds, including family and staff. Unlike the typical royal castles, the Bloodhounds didn’t have servants. They did their own work. It was part of their code, being well-rounded from the bottom up. Every Bloodhound knew how to do what the other did, but some excelled at different things than others. Every man and woman worked hard to reveal his or her gifts.
Creed stood on the ramparts on the front end of his castle, looking down on the Royal Roadway. The wide road not only connected one gate to the other, but it also made a ring around the internal perimeter of the city. He looked down at the men pounding on the gates. They weren’t underlings, they were dwarves. The burly men pounded the entry door with fists that sounded like they were hard as stone. “Those are dwarves! Who reported them as underlings?”
“Edmund did,” Rayal responded. The raven-haired beauty twirled her hair on her finger as she rocked back and forth, looking over the wall. “I’m sorry, but I know the difference between a dwarf and an underling. This is the first time I’ve been up here. The knocking is news to me.”
Creed’s eyes followed the road northwest of his position. A host of dwarves made a full blockade one castle down. No underling would make it down that road unless they came over the rooftops. There wasn’t a spider or underling in sight, either. The City of Bone, once a lively place thriving with activity, had become a dead place. “That still doesn’t explain why they are knocking at the door.” He shouted down to the dwarves, “What do you want?”
The black-beards turned their heads upward. Each dwarf had a big nose on his face. Their beards, some braided and some not, covered most of their chests. One with a hatchet made with a hammer on the back end said something in Dwarven. The only word Creed understood was Mood.” “I don’t understand. Do you speak Common?”
In very broken Common, the dwarf said, “Time to depart. Mood’s orders.”
Creed flung his hands up. “I know. We are working on it. Will you stop pounding on my doors.”
The dwarf shouted something in Dwarven. They hit the door a few more times and walked away.
“That’s odd,” Creed said. Addressing Rayal, he added, “And you said that Edmund said they were underlings.” She nodded. “I’m certain that despite Edmund’s lack of literacy, he wouldn’t have gotten this mixed up. Everyone in this city knows what an underling is by now. Even the blind. Where are my men, anyway? You gave them my summons, didn’t you?”
“Of course, we both did,” Rayal said. “They were supposed to meet you up here the same as us.”
He reached down and pet Manx, who sat at his feet. “Rayal, you seem nervous. Is something else on your mind?”
She scanned the area for any other listeners, but seeing that no one else was coming, she whispered. “It’s Lorda Almen. I don’t trust her. You shouldn’t, either.”
CHAPTER 11
Nighttime had fallen on the City of Bone. Venir walked along the top of the huge ramparts of the city’s outer wall. Mood accompanied him. Venir stopped and put his foot up on the parapet. Smoking a cigar, Mood did the same. Venir counted twelve pyres of burning bodies. The underlings continued to drag the dead, as well as some people who were still living, over the ground and into the flames. The air reeked of death.
Clatch-Zip!
A ballista was fired from the higher elevation of the city wall. The bolt rocketed into an underling’s chest who dragged a body toward the flames. The underling fell over dead. Another underling scurried away, disappearing into the night.
“So many,” Venir said. “And all in one place.” He drew his long hunting knife from his belt. It was a large weapon with a handle made from animal bone. He thumbed the sharp edge. “This was my grandfather’s. I killed my first underling with it. The fiends have been stacking up ever since. But like weeds, they keep growing, despite the terrain.”
“It will only end when it ends.” Mood’s bushy eyebrows wriggled a little as he studied the sky. “The problem is, no one knows when the end is, but nothing lasts forever. Even the hard edge of steel will fade.”
“If there were more dwarves, maybe we wouldn’t have this problem,” Venir said. “They seem to be the only ones willing to fight this battle. I have to wonder, what if we are the only ones left to fight the fiends? We can’t trust the royals.” He made a disgusted face. “With all of their numbers, they still can’t rally enough men to fight.”
“We’ve added a few thousand citizens. They seem willing enough. Remember, there are more citizens than royals, yet the citizens don’t rise up against the injustice. The problem is fear. As the citizens fear the royals, so do the royals fear the underlings.”
Venir flipped the knife around in his hand a few times. “It’s more than just fear. It’s greed. The royals aren’t thinking about losing so much as what they can gain. They’ll hold on to what they have until they die. If they don’t learn to fight for something besides themselves, we’ll perish. All of us.”
“Perhaps there needs to be a change,” Mood said. “The royals have too many houses. They need a king, like me and the dwarves do. One person leads all. But the dwarven nature is more honorable than that of man. One foul king would bring devastation that would last a lifetime. I’ve seen it before.”
“You’ve lived for centuries, Mood, and your eyes have seen much, but have you seen anything like this?”
“So many underlings on the surface at once? Never. But the City of Bone was once theirs, long, long ago.”
Venir tucked his knife into his belt. He casually leaned back against the parapet. “Really?”
“So the sages say. Men and dwarves ran them out.”
“Have you not said that the dwarves built the City of Bone.”
“Aye, our craftsmanship is all over it. We’ve built many cities. We are the finest builders in Bish. Our stubby fingers are on everything.” He rolled his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. “We are the best. But the royals betrayed us. They didn’t want to pay, so we departed with much of the work unfinished. Most of what you see now, men did. That’s why
it’s so lousy.”
Venir eyed Castle Kling’s spires and walls. The castle was as refined on the outside as it was within. If the work was shoddy, he didn’t notice. “How did you move the large rocks that make up the wall?”
“We could have done that, but the giants did it ages ago—a favor to the royals who betrayed the giants as well. They don’t roam this world so much as they used to. Now, they reside in the Under-Bish. I like it. It’s as far away from dwarves as possible.”
“I’d like to send the underlings to the Under-Bish.”
Mood’s eyebrow arched. “Huh, that’s a Bish of an idea. I don’t suppose we can ask them to volunteer for it. Ho-ho!” He landed his heavy hand on Venir’s shoulder. “No, you’ll just have to kill them all. Don’t worry, me and the dwarves will help you.”
“That’s all the help I’ll need.” Venir unslung his rucksack and unbuckled the flap. He took out the mystic sack and draped it over one of the parapet battlements. The leather sack lay flat as a board. “Well, and this of course.”
Wump! Wump! Wump!
Blackie, dark as night, appeared in the sky. The dragon’s wings beat against the dry evening air as he rose higher and higher. On his back was the tiny figure of a woman. She looked like a ghost sitting on his mighty frame. Her cottony locks had a wispy look as they flew away and out of sight.
“Our forces are shrinking,” Venir said.
“You can’t count on the likes of them.” Eyeing the sack, Mood said, “What are you about to do?”
“I thought I’d put Helm on and get a feel for things.”
“With so many, you might get too much feeling. Perhaps you should wait until our plans are ready. I’d hate to see you hop off this wall and into the sea of underlings. Actually, that’s not entirely true. There’s nothing more exciting than seeing you whittle them down into the greasy stumps that they are.”
Venir opened up the neck of the sack. “I can handle it.”
Mood stayed Venir’s hand with his own. “Wait. I must tell you something first.”
CHAPTER 12
“What do you mean, Rayal?” Creed asked. He walked over and took her hand. “Aside from being oddly stubborn, she seems fine to me.”
“Yes, well, you wouldn’t notice,” Jasper said to him. “In her presence, men think more with their loins than their gray matter.”
“Jasper!” Rayal said in a harsh whisper.
“You know it’s true. He’s probably thinking with his loins right now. Look how he’s holding you?”
Creed released Rayal’s hands. “I promise I was only being endearing, Rayal. Please, tell me what concerns you. No one is around but us. It’s safe. Besides, I am the lord of this castle. You couldn’t be in a safer spot. Please, speak. I promise I won’t take any offense.”
Rayal played with a strand of hair that hung over her shoulders. “There was an incident in the kitchen. I spoke out of turn, I suppose, and she slapped me. It was as if something possessed her.”
Jasper nodded.
“She’s been evasive. Secretive. There are times that we search her out and cannot find her. When we try to talk at full length about what we need to do, she changes the subject.” Rayal sighed. “Typically, she is very direct about any topic. But not this time. She… worries me.”
“I think you might be overthinking the matter.” Creed looked down at Jasper. “I take it that you feel the same?”
“Lorda Almen is a little spooky, yes. Sometimes my skin grows tight when I’m around her.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
Rayal grabbed him by the shirt. “No, no, no! Please don’t.”
“I was merely going to feel her out. I won’t expose you.”
“No, let’s just get out of here. No offense, Creed, but I don’t feel safe with her around. In the past, I’ve been very fond of Lorda Almen, but now there is something witchy.”
“I’m a seasoned man. I haven’t noticed anything, aside from her newfound affection for Castle Bloodhound.”
“This place smells like dogs,” Jasper interjected. “All of the time. You can’t believe that she is comfortable with that. It has the smell of deception all over it.”
Creed nodded. “Agreed. I won’t say a word about it. Let us focus on getting out of here, then. That should resolve your problems all at once. You won’t have to deal with her so much.” He looked out into the streets. “But there will be underlings to contend with. Are we in agreement?”
Rayal and Jasper nodded.
Creed turned back toward the castle. “Where is Edmund and the others? This is very odd.” His eyes narrowed. There was shadowy movement in one of the castle windows that overlooked the ramparts. The hairs on the nape of his neck rose. His hand fell to the handle of his sword.
Eyes fixed on him, Rayal said, “Creed, what is it?”
“Run,” he said quietly. A very loud clatch-zip came from a window in a higher position than he was looking at. A heavy crossbow bolt thudded into his chest just as he ripped his sword from his scabbard. The bolt poked clear through his back. “Run! Run!”
Clatch-Zip! Clatch-Zip! Clatch-Zip!
Bolts assailed the three people on the ramparts. Jasper’s hands came to life. A mystic violet shield popped up on her fingertips. It started to grow. A crossbow bolt struck her right through the temple. Thunk! She fell over dead as a stone, and the fire on her fingers went out.
Bloodhounds with crossbows appeared on opposite ends of the rampart. Creed and Rayal were trapped in the middle. Clutching his bleeding chest, while shielding her from the missiles, he said, “Get out of here, Rayal!”
“There is nowhere to run,” she cried.
He grabbed her by the waist, gave her a full quick kiss on the lips, and said, “Forgive me!” He shoved her over the wall. She landed down on the streets.
The Bloodhounds, armed with crossbows, advanced three abreast. One of them was Edmund, a stilt of a man, with a long neck and nasty disposition. Murder was in his eyes. “Give up the steel, Creed.”
Creed spit blood on the walk. He considered jumping the wall, but Castle Bloodhound was his to defend. “I am the lord of this manor. You men, all of you, give it up!”
Someone tossed a dog’s head over Edmund’s head. It landed and rolled to a stop at Creed’s feet. It was his dog, Manx.
“You dare, Edmund! You have lost all honor! All of you! You killed my dog!”
“And you will suffer a worse fate if you don’t drop your sword, Creed,” Edmund said. “Drop it.”
“I’ll never drop my sword.” Creed teetered into the rampart. He took a quick glimpse. The dwarves had gathered Rayal in their burly arms. They hustled her away. Creed could not see if she was breathing or not. He twisted his head toward Edmund. Standing tall again, he advanced on Edward and his men.
Edward nodded. A Bloodhound fired.
Clatch-Zip!
The bolt impaled Creed’s stomach. Groaning, he said, “What did she promise you, Edmund? Any of you? What price did she pay that you would turn on your own brother?”
“This isn’t all about her, Creed. There’s the matter of avenging Lord Grom. Many of us were very loyal to him. Including Lorda. But she is very persuasive, I admit. Never in my life did I think I’d ever delight myself in the gentle caress of a woman like that. She’s so special.” Edmund winked at Creed. “You know what I’m talking about, now drop your sword.”
Hanging his head and fighting for breath, Creed let the sword dip. Manx’s head lay by his feet. Jasper’s eyes were wide open, glazed over and filled with shock. With raspy breath, he said, “I was born a Bloodhound, I’ll die a Bloodhound.”
“What was that?” Edmund said.
“I’ll die with honor. I’ll die with steel in my one good hand. Today, steel and flesh are one.” Creed sprang into action. He made a beeline for Edmund.
“Fire!” the betrayer of the Bloodhounds shouted.
Clatch-Zip! Clatch-Zip! Clatch-Zip!
Crossbow bolts ripped into
Creed’s body. He might as well have been stung by bees. No bolt, no arrow, nothing would stop him from avenging his dog. Gawking, Edmund pushed backward into the ranks. Creed’s sword got to the man first. With a strike quicker than a jumping deer, he cut the man’s neck open. Then, it was him versus all of his brothers.
Slice! Stab! Glitch! No sword ever moved so fast in Castle Bloodhound.
Creed fought on, howling like a wild dog until he howled no more.
CHAPTER 13
“What is on your mind, Mood?” Venir asked. He kept his hand firm on the sack. Mood lifted his hand off Venir’s hand.
“You and I aren’t as different as we look.” Mood made an uncomfortable groan. “This is not something that I willingly admit, but you and I have giant blood in our veins.”
Venir quickly recalled his time in the Under-Bish as well as his run-ins with giants in the past. They called him a little giant. “Is this why the blood rangers are abnormally bigger than the other dwarves?”
“It makes my mouth taste bad to say so, but yes. There’s no other explanation for it. But we have the scent. That’s why we can find our way in and out of the Mist.”
“I didn’t find my way around the Mist so well, as I recall,” Venir said.
“No, but you survived. No mortal man can do that. He’d perish. Anyhow, we have a smell for one another.”
“I never smelled anything different.”
“You only have a bit of the blood in you. Er”—Mood clawed at his beard—“your father and grandfather, not so much either, but I knew. It’s an extremely rare thing, just part of your family.”
“I never knew that you knew my family so well. How well did you know them?”
“Only in passing. They were fine folk, Venir. Simple folk. Fishermen of humble origins. Remarkable fishermen. I crossed them a time or two along the silver streams. Normally, I’d move on, but they could have cared less if I was dwarf or an ogre. You come from an honest brood. As a matter of fact, I was so fond of them, I gave them Chongo to give you as a boy.”
The Darkslayer: The Battle for Bone (Book 10 of 10) (Bish and Bone) Page 4
